


take a breather

by CosmicTurnabout



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Seduction, Shameless Smut, Spoilers, self-indulgent in the extreme
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:15:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24564457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicTurnabout/pseuds/CosmicTurnabout
Summary: As an assistant nurse at Shujin, you’ve spent the past few months working with Dr. Maruki. And it really seems like he’s hurting for a break.
Relationships: Maruki Takuto/Reader
Comments: 25
Kudos: 138





	1. Chapter 1

_Doctor Maruki is so kind_ , you think, watching him arrange his papers on his ever-so-neat desk, _so kind, and it is about time I thank him for everything he’s done for me_. The sentiment makes your smile mischievous. Finally, you’ve got something in mind. 

It was impossible not to be taken with him immediately upon first being introduced back in May. He is handsome, with thick brown hair that curls winsomely over his ears, an open, friendly face with sparkling eyes, and a mouth always ready to smile. It’s like his kindness has found an external outlet in his physical appearance, making him more beautiful than he otherwise would have been, and it’s contagious, almost, his goodwill. He brightens a room with his eager voice, his talking hands. He's a wonderful listener, an excellent counselor. He was born to do the job. 

You’ve witnessed his kindness firsthand. After working at his side for months here at Shujin as an assistant nurse, you’ve seen how much the students like him, and how much he cares for their well-being in turn. Only half a year as their counselor, and so many students have expressed regret that he’ll only be here through November that some of the teachers have started begging him to stay. If you're being honest, you'll miss him too. He's got research to work on, he says, research that will take him away from the school eventually, so he may as well do as much good here as he can while finishing up his paper. When you ask about it, he waves a hand and offers vague comments about “healing the mind” and “mending cognition.” Big, lofty thoughts. It’s not your field of study, exactly, but you’re sure it will be a fine paper at any rate. 

But there is something gnawing at him. It’s impossible to overlook. He’s schooled you on basic therapy techniques, so you know enough to tell when someone is buckling under the strain of stress and grief. He hides it well, but every once in a while, he does something that gives him away. A quick swipe at the corner of his eye, like he’s brushing away a stray tear, a sigh at the window, looking out with juice box in hand, a crumpled frown when going over a student’s school records. Something is bothering him, something deep-rooted and painful. Yet he refuses to give any clue as to what exactly that might be. You had been wishing you could do something for him, after everything he’s done for you. 

Well. It has not taken you long to realize you _can_ do something, as it turns out. 

Doctor Maruki has had his eye on you. Oh, he’s always been a gentleman, he’s never put one foot out of line, but you've noticed. When you've worn skirts, his gaze has lingered on your exposed legs just a second too long; his hand has squeezed your shoulder a touch too tightly when he's had reason to pass you by in the hallway. He’s even checked you out once or twice, if fervent glances out of the corner of your eye in the nurse’s office are any indication (thank god for that long standing mirror in the corner). Not that he’d ever let anything slip. Not that he'd ever be crude or vulgar, or do anything to make you uncomfortable.

He’s kind to the point of shyness, really, never wanting to cause even the slightest upset. Still. What if he knew how much you wanted him to take charge? What would he say if he knew you wanted him to push you against the wall of the nurse’s office, explore you with his mouth, and hold you there until he’d had his fill of you? What if he knew how much more of him you wanted than that? You’ve lain awake many a night over the past few months, hands straying to your core, wishing the fingers pushing inside of you were his, yearning to feel his stubble against... He’d faint, probably, if he knew any of this, and the thought makes you laugh, but...

He is a man, after all, and even a man as kind him must have urges. Urges that need to be sated. 

_What the hell_ , you figure. _It’s worth a shot._


	2. Chapter 2

It is the end of October. Thoughts buzz in your head as you watch Doctor Maruki shuffle papers together on his desk, tapping them down with good-natured firmness. After a rather exhausting day of counseling, he is more than ready to collapse into the armchair near the window with a great sigh, and with an almost programmed gait he does just that. 

You stir from your seat near the long glass table where he sees students, your nervous face reflected back at you in its surface. You’re actually going to do this. You wet your lips and swallow before raising your voice. 

“Tea, Doctor?”

“Yes, that sounds lovely. Just like you to know what I need.” He says your name with a twinkle in his eye, which in turn sends a pleasant shiver down your back. Like he’s been playing with it in private, testing it on his tongue. Ooh. Wouldn’t that be something. 

Today you’ve decided to wear a pleated skirt, shorter than usual, but nothing too showy. Your button-up shirt conforms rather well to the swell of your breasts, but again, not in such a way that any administrator is going to pull you aside for it. Strappy sandals complete the outfit. It’s all just a teensy bit sexier than how you’d normally dress, is all. Sometimes less is more, especially when seduction is in the cards.

“I figured you’d want a break from your juice boxes eventually,” you say. 

He laughs with a self-deprecating lilt, shifting against the green armchair to get more comfortable. “I drink what I have at hand, and usually that’s what I’ve brought for the students. But we could all use a change of pace sometimes.” 

“You can say that again.” You make a show of putting water on to boil for tea; this is just another day after school, just another normal day. The teapot and cups in the nurse’s office cupboard are some generic department store brand, picked up probably two or three head nurses ago. The office isn’t exactly stocked when it comes to creature comforts, and Doctor Maruki’s arrival hasn’t changed that. A quick glance at the trash can near the cabinet shows dozens of crumpled juice boxes and candy wrappers, a telltale pile all around. The doctor really does not go out of his way when it comes to his own nutrition. You wonder how many lunches he’s made of apple juice and sweets. 

With the water set to boil in the teapot, you come around in front of the armchair, hands clasped politely at waist-level. Doctor Maruki looks up, curious, an expectant smile hovering on his lips. He is always so ready and willing to smile. 

“Doctor Maruki,” you say. “I wanted to take the time to thank you wholeheartedly for letting me be your assistant. With what you’ve taught me, I’ll be able to better serve Shujin students when they come to us with mental health issues. I can basically lead therapy sessions myself, thanks to you.” You resist the urge to drop a curtsy. 

“Of course,” he says happily, like it really is the best news he’s ever heard. “You’ve been such a great help to me. I wouldn’t have been able to reach out to half the number of students I did if it hadn’t been for you.” 

You make a satisfied sound, face reddening ever so slightly. He’s not lying. You have built up quite the rapport with the student body in the three years you’ve been at Shujin, and Doctor Maruki has used your happy relationship with the students as a sort of jumping-off point for his counseling. He really is grateful. 

You study him in the late-afternoon light coming in from the window; it falls across him like a blanket, leaving the top of his head untouched but tracing his shoulders, his clasped hands, his legs crossed at the ankles. He is soft, all graceful lines and dulled edges. He looks serene. Nothing sharp about him. 

“Thank you for that,” you say earnestly. “I felt the need to show my appreciation. And I’m... well, if I’m being honest, I’m going to miss you when you leave us.” 

“It does my heart good to hear you say that.” He sighs, but it’s a joyful sound, contentment in a puff of air. “I’m going to miss you, and this place too. I’ve learned so much from the students, more than I ever expected to...” He looks out the window, pursing his lips suddenly, as if he were just on the verge of saying too much. There’s no malice in the words that you can hear, nothing he’d want to hide, but he seems reluctant to continue. 

“Will you consider staying? Or visiting, at least. I know you’ve got your research, but...” You shrug noncommittally. “I’d like seeing you.”

You put some heat into that last, and his raised eyebrows tell you that he’s heard it loud and clear. And that the tone of the room has suddenly shifted. _I am actually doing this_ , you think, and you resist the urge to catch your breath. He has taken your hand in the invisible dance now, and you are leading, but he could easily throw you off guard and leave you scrambling for balance if you don’t keep your cool. 

...Or he could cause you to trip from his own clumsiness, which you wouldn’t put past him. A memory stands out stark and much-loved in your mind, from early June, of Maruki toppling head-over-toeless-sandals into a trash can in the hallway, papers fluttering around him like cherry blossoms. There was nothing around that could have tripped him up that you could see; it was like the powers that be had decided he was too perfect, and thus a lack of coordination had been deemed necessary to offset his overall geniality. 

You draw closer to the chair—just to get a better look out the window, of course. Just to watch the track team practice on the field across the way. “I’d like seeing you, too,” he says, and he’s not tripping this time. He’s a little awkward, sure, but there’s a hint of intent in his voice, like this is something he’s wanted to get off his chest for a long while.

“How would you do that?” you ask. You’re close enough to him now that he could reach out and touch you if he wanted. His hands remain planted against the rough green cloth of the armchair, though, their phantom non-presence almost stinging your bare arms. 

“Well, y-you know”—-and he’s beginning to blush, this is beyond adorable—“I won’t be studying and writing all the time. I might need to come back to the school to do some follow-up interviews with key students. You could help me with that.” 

“I would love to.”

One of his hands has left the chair arm to, infuriatingly, scratch at his cheek. The gesture has more of the absent than the deliberate to it, an unconscious tic produced by nervousness, perhaps. “I... I will let you know when I’m back in town of course.” That treacherous hand remains there against his cheek for a burning few seconds before almost languidly returning to its resting place on the arm. 

“And... before then?” you venture. 

“Before what?” 

“Before you need to do more research at Shujin. Will you come back to see me? Just me.” You’re being awfully bold now, but the tide has changed. Doctor Maruki seems to be mulling over something in the black box of his brain, the light from the windows filling his glasses and blanking his eyes. You’ve never before wished so fervently that you could read minds. 

And then, suddenly, there’s pressure on your hand. “I will.” He has reached out to grasp your hand in his, squeezing it lightly. 

You exhale. You hadn’t even noticed you’d taken a breath. “Now _that_ makes me happy to hear.” You can practically feel the blood pumping through your veins, echoes thrumming faintly in your ears. 

“I-It does?” He smiles uncertainly, his thumb stroking your palm, and that small movement is both innocent and exhilarating. He can probably feel your pulse quickening under his touch. When you don’t respond immediately—you’re still somewhat spinning at having succeeded thus far—he gives a quick artificial cough, not sure how to fill the silence. 

You come back down to earth, taking both of his hands and smiling wryly. He _would_ be doubtful about his appeal to you, even now! “What did I just say? You know, for being so perceptive in general, you sure are dense when it comes to matters of the heart. Certain matters, anyway.” 

He laughs raucously then, his whole face opening up. He rises from the chair, and you breathe an inner sigh of relief; it had been awkward, holding his hands while he was sitting. 

“Well.” He swings your arms back and forth, a somewhat goofy smile on his face. “What will we do about this?” 

You shrug. “What do you suggest, Doctor?” In the kitchenette area, the teapot has begun whistling. 

And then everything seems to happen too quickly for either of you to comprehend. Doctor Maruki closes the distance between you—or did you move first?—and begins kissing you full on the lips. You nearly sigh at the contact, and open your mouth to him, slipping your tongue past his teeth. He deepens the kiss as well, almost unconsciously it seems, and you spend a wonderful, unquantifiable amount of time pressing your face against his, your eyes closed, reveling in the feel and smell of him. There’s aftershave, and the sweet tang of whatever candy’s he’s just eaten, and his stubble brushing against your chin, exactly like you thought it would. 

You’ve dreamed about this for how long now? He feels spectacular—strong and soft together, as solid and steadfast as an old tree, as comfortable to lean against as a well-used pillow. Your hands drift up to the sides of his face, tracing his ears, lightly ruffling his hair, coming down to his shoulders and curving around his neck to pull him in even closer. His hands stay firmly and politely on your hips—of course they would—but his fingers drum insistently against you now and then, indicating a desire to do more. The teapot has all but been forgotten.

You’re not sure how long it goes on—one minute? two?—but when you finally separate, he’s immediately apologetic, holding you out at arm’s length, eyes bulging as if he cannot comprehend what he’s just done. 

“I-I-I’m so sorry.” He mumbles your name, stumbling over it in his embarrassment. “That w-was completely out of line.” 

You shake your head, arms slung over his shoulders, eyes rolling. “Doctor. You _cannot_ be this blind. I’ve wanted this for ages.” 

“I-I suppose”—and he gives a hysterical little laugh, probably at his own expense—“that you can call me Takuto now.” 

“Well, _Takuto_ , I’ve wanted this for ages. And I think... part of you has wanted it too.” You reach up and twirl a small snatch of his hair around your index finger. His eyes grow even wider, if that’s possible. “Haven’t you?” 

“You are very pretty,” he allows carefully, his blush indicating he is hyper-aware of what you are doing with his hair, “a-and your outfit today is...” He gulps. “I will say that it’s c-certainly hard to keep one’s mind on work, when you look so beautiful.” 

“You can just say it,” you almost whisper, giving that loose bit of hair a little yank.

“Say what?” he asks. He sounds so heart-meltingly innocent that you roll your eyes even harder than before. 

“You can tell me you think I look sexy.” 

He stutters over that thought as you continue looping his hair around your finger. You inch closer, and soon your body is pressed up against his again, shirt undone just a tad to reveal a hint of cleavage. When had _that_ happened? You certainly hadn’t undone it yourself. A button or two had probably popped loose during your blissful little makeout session. 

“Y-you’re gorgeous,” he manages finally, adjusting his glasses in a wild attempt to do something else with his hands (though this is a bit hard to accomplish with your arms still draped over his shoulders). “I can’t stop looking at you. Even when you’re not dressed so... so wonderfully.” 

Oh, he really _is_ adorable. Just the sweetest. He can’t bring himself to say “sexy,” even now. You could eat him up. “That is _just_ what I wanted to hear,” you say, and give him your cheekiest smile. You place your hands against his chest. 

“Wh-what are you—“

Before he can say anything further, you are pushing him gently onto the couch in front of the long glass table. “You want this, right?” you ask softly. 

Doctor Maruki gives a fervent nod, a rapid jiggling of his head, and collapses against the square pillows. You climb into his lap, jab a finger against his jugular. Biting your lip, you drag a line from his neck to the top of his collared shirt, flicking against it insistently. This will be fun. 

“When was the last time you were with a woman, Doctor Maruki?” 

“Uh—I, I uh—“ he gulps as you pull on his tie—“i-it’s been quite a while, if you really want to know...”

You lean forward over him, and that’s when you feel the bulge growing in his pants, hard and insistent against your thigh. Oh yes. This has been a long time coming. 

“Do you ever think of me, doctor?” you whisper hotly into his ear, egging him on. “Do you think of me when you stroke your cock? When you’re alone and frustrated and just need to—mmm”—and you nip the shell of his earlobe—“let it all out?” 

“What has gotten into you?” he asks, voice rough and needy. You can hear a laugh in it, though. 

“You,” you say playfully, “or, well... I’d like you to. Get into me, that is.” 

He splutters, completely flustered now; his blush has spread to his hairline. 

“This-this is...”

“Exactly what I want,” you cut in. “It’s after hours. No one will bother us. I want to make you feel good. Will you let me do that?” 

You pull back to meet his gaze head-on. His Adam’s apple bobs as he takes you in fully, pupils dilating. 

“Well, since you asked... god, yes. Of course I will.” 

“Good. Because I need you, Doctor Maruki. Takuto. Right this second.” And your hands move to his belt. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! This got really filthy, really fast. Hooray! Also, there’s like... way more ball stuff in this than I first planned on writing. Way more. So I hope y’all are cool with that. Enjoy!

Undoing his belt takes a few seconds tops; even with your hands shaking in anticipation, you manage enough focus to accomplish this most important of tasks, and Takuto wriggles his hips helpfully as you pull his pants down by the waist band. The only thing between your hands and his cock now are his boxer briefs. You knead him softly through the cloth, reveling in the small sounds he’s making somewhere deep in his throat, and lean over him to catch his lips in another kiss. He kisses back, hard, and sits up straighter against the pillows. This is nice, as he can push against you now, and take control if he really wants to. You’ve enjoyed assuming the lead role here, but... well, you’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t love him to ravage you at some point.   
  
Leaving his lips with a small, sharp bite, you nip down his jawline to his neck, briefly laving his pulse point before you nestle your face into his shirt, kissing his chest through the light fabric. You kiss a downward trail to the band of his boxers and the run of brown hair leading toward and sticking up from underneath the band. It seems both of you pause, stop breathing. Your hands rest on the insides of his thighs, and your breath washes over his straining length.  
  
“Can you—?” he whispers, and you pull back, arching an eyebrow.  
  
“Can I what?”  
  
“Can you—ugh—please, just... please put me in your mouth,” he gets out in a rush. “I think I’m going to explode if you don’t.” And all of a sudden, he fists a hand in your hair, and with a force tempered by gentleness, begins to nudge you downwards.  
  
“Oho,” you nearly gasp. “ _Takuto_. I didn’t know you had it in you.”  
  
“I— _please_ just do it, before I lose my nerve,” he laughs.  
  
You wrench your head up against his hand, give him your most devilish smile, and pull his briefs down in one fluid motion. His cock springs free from its confines, and you take it in, worrying your bottom lip in anticipation; it’s engorged already, the bulbous head shining with precum, the shaft thick and red with want. You wrap your hands around it eagerly, and Takuto stutters a moan that sends your belly to squirming. You’re getting incredibly wet from all this, and you haven’t even tasted him yet. His hand still in your hair, you give two priming strokes before lowering your head, your tongue and mouth enveloping the tip of his cock.  
  
He makes a contented sound at this much-awaited contact, partway between a moan and a sigh, and you move down his shaft slowly, letting him fill your mouth as he continues to huff his appreciation. You start sucking in earnest, tongue wrapping around him, cheeks working as you create a sensation of tight suction for him. You’re locked so securely around him that you don’t think even the slightest bit of air is getting past your lips, and when you meet his gaze, he’s fluttering his eyelashes and furrowing his brow, almost like he’s in pain. Luckily, you know better.  
  
“Oh yes,” he murmurs. “Just like that.”  
  
You remain like this, licking and sucking against his member for a few moments longer, listening with relish as he whispers his enjoyment. He looks so delectable like this, hair disheveled and stretched out on the couch, almost completely at your mercy. He twitches each time you give him a particularly hard suck, and he hisses through his teeth when you pay special attention to his head, lapping up precum as it oozes out. His whole cock is wet and shining now, and your hands cover what your mouth cannot.  
  
This is all well and good, but... you want more. From him.  
  
“Takuto,” you say, taking your mouth off of him but continuing to stroke him lightly. “Could you... do me a favor?”  
  
He nods. “A-anything.”  
  
“I want you to... say whatever you want. Tell me what you want me to do to you.”  
  
“Y-you want me say”—and he gulps—“ _whatever_ I want?”  
  
“Yes. Please.”  
  
“Then...” He swallows, and you can tell the gears in his brain are working toward... something. Whatever he wants to ask, he’s never been brave enough to put it into words with a partner before. You let him think, and in the meantime, you start sucking lightly on his tip again, not enough to get him really heated, but enough to elicit those lovely little grunts from the back of his throat.  
  
Finally, decision seemingly made, he opens his mouth. “I—I want you to suck”—but he stammers, and despite it all, he can’t finish. Instead, he pushes your head down a bit, not enough to take you off of him, but enough to direct your attention to the space beneath his shaft.  
  
It’s all but clear what he wants. So... he’s that kind of guy, huh? You release his cock with a breathy sigh, performing for him a little. With a sassy look, you crane your neck down to tongue his balls lightly, kissing and mouthing them. No use playing around when he’s being this obvious. He squeezes your head, fingers splaying against your scalp, and you decide to go further, sucking one ball fully but carefully into your mouth, and begin pulling at it long and slow. You keep one hand on his cock as you draw away from his body, your lips and tongue caressing his sack. Then you let him out of your mouth with a wet pop, and watch heatedly as his sack bounces heavily back to sag against the couch. You do the same with his other ball, flicking your tongue against him, then sucking him past your teeth with a slurping noise—he’s loving this, his free hand flexing involuntarily next to his leg—and rolling him around in your mouth, your cheeks hollowing with effort. After a few seconds, you release him, the stretched skin of his sack swinging back and relaxing between his legs again. He’s breathing incredibly hard, practically panting, his cock pulsing like a heartbeat in your hand. Now, quickly, you take both of his balls in your mouth, and with your eyes meeting his, you suck and pull on them, your nose pressing against the underside of his shaft. You suck, pull, then come slowly back over and over, your nose tickling his cock with a feather touch. Each time you pull, stretching taut the glistening skin of his sack, you feel his balls bulging softly against your cheeks, and you smile wolfishly around him as he utters a string of obscenities you wouldn’t have imagined ever coming out of his mouth. You feel absolutely filthy doing this, sucking Doctor Maruki’s balls so shamelessly, but hey—it’s what he wanted. You pump his cock in time to his heaving breaths, and finally, after pulling his balls out as far as they can go—almost to the point of pain, you assume—you release them, and his wet sack pops back into place, bobbing slack beneath his swollen cock.  
  
Takuto rolls his eyes skyward at this display, a flush spreading from his face and neck down past the collar of his shirt. His hand has left your hair, and his fingers drum wildly against his thighs, his legs and feet locked out straight ahead of him, barely daring to move. His cock head is weeping precum now, and it slicks the palm of your hand, allowing you to glide up and down from tip to root even faster than before. You notice a small damp spot on the couch where his sack rests, wet from the extended attention of your mouth and tongue, and your cunt clenches at the visual reminder of your own wetness.  
  
You need him inside you, and soon.  
  
“ _God_ ,” he whispers. “I don’t think I-I’ve ever been so turned on in my entire life.”  
  
“Mm,” you say in assent, reaching to pull your skirt down. “Me neither.” You wriggle out of it quickly, tossing it aside, and dip your hand into your panties to play with yourself. Your clit is aching as much as he must be now, and you alternate between probing inside with a finger or two and circling your throbbing clit. Takuto is enjoying watching this just as much as you enjoy doing it, and you kiss his balls, then his weeping head, licking it gently clean and grinning all the while; he’s the slightest bit salty on your tongue. Lips still close to his shaft, you cup his balls and fix him with the most fiery stare you can summon.  
  
“Your balls are so full, Takuto,” you say huskily. You give them the smallest tug, and he flinches. “So heavy. I can feel it. They must be aching.”  
  
He only nods helplessly, eyes closed, nostrils flaring. His hair is a complete mess. You think his glasses are starting to steam up, even.  
  
“How should we go about emptying them?” you ask.  
  
He opens his eyes. Suddenly, looking more determined than you’ve ever seen him, he rocks up and presses his hands against your shoulders. In seconds you are the one beneath him; his shirt hangs open, tie askew, and his bare cock presses damp and urgent against your panties. You smile up at him innocently.  
  
“I see,” you say, licking your lips. You couldn’t have asked for a better change-up to the proceedings.  
  
“I have just the solution,” he says, his face coming to meet yours, and there’s no awkwardness in his voice at all as he begins to kiss you.


End file.
